


Requiem On Paper Wings

by grendel_kamisori



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grendel_kamisori/pseuds/grendel_kamisori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armed with the dark twin of the Lotus Blade and a hidden branch of Monkey Kung Fu, Ron sets out to avenge Kim's death. Also starring Drakken, Shego, Wade, and a host of new characters - generous amounts of buttkicking action included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Last Regrets

 

Prologue: Last Regrets

 

            The figure clad in a black raincoat walked, with painful slowness, through the entrance of Middleton Cemetery, his only companion the thin raindrops falling like tears on and around him. The cemetery, a quiet place at best, was completely deserted at three in the morning, leaving him to walk, with fluid grace and utter silence towards his goal: a simple marble memorial, surrounded by fresh flowers and candles long extinguished by the rain. On the stone was new embellishment; a graduation cap, left on top of the grave marker like a gift, and a simple card that read, “To Kimmy, From Monique.”

_I wonder how Monique is doing._

_I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself._

 

            A bouquet of white roses was clutched in his right hand, his left thrust inside his coat jacket. His dyed-black hair was completely drenched, the bangs lying across his forehead and his eyes like a mourning veil. Despite the torrents falling down his face, his gaze never left the memorial, burning its stark image… burning her memory… once more into the depths of his mind.

            Not all of the water flowing down his cheeks was rain.

 

            _I’m tired. I’m so tired._

_I don’t know how long I can keep going on._

 

            He stopped a few feet from the marker, standing stock still for half a minute before slowly dropping to his knees. He placed the bouquet in front of the memorial with loving carefulness, being sure not to knock away the other wreaths and flowers laid there. There were many; among those he could easily see, despite the twilight, the names written on the cards. He could read them because he knew who they were from; Tim, Jim, the Drs. Possible, his own family, all of their classmates and friends from Middleton High, Dr. Director, even Wade, the reclusive genius, had left his room to pay homage to the lovely redhead.

 

            _My redhead. My Kim. My KP._

_I don’t know why I’m still fighting._

 

            He raised his right hand, pressing the pads of two fingers to his lips like a silent prayer, before reaching out to touch the rain-kissed marble marker. He knew it was his imagination, but he thought he could feel warmth in stone. The same warmth she always had, for everything and everyone, but especially for him. The warmth she had before… before it all happened.

 

            _I wonder if you’re looking at me right now._

_I wonder if you’re having fun where you are. I hope so._

_Just a little longer, KP. I’ll be there soon._

_There’s just one more thing that I need to do._

_When I’ve found him and sent him where he belongs…_

_…then, then I can be with you again. Again. Forever._

 

            He closed his eyes to murmur a quiet prayer for her. The small scar on the left side of his chin started throbbing again, the way it always did when it rained, or when he thought of her. He didn’t mind the rain, though. It was only right that sky would weep this day, the second anniversary of…

            His eyes screwed shut, the tears beginning to overwhelm him. It was supposed to have been the second anniversary, not of her death, but of _them_. Together. Forever.

            His left hand reached up, a metal replacement for the hand he lost on that black day, to absently stroke at the ring he still kept on a silver chain, around his neck. Dr. James Possible himself had helped, using the remnants of the Project Hephaestus technology to create a cybernetic replacement. It was a glorious piece of work, responsive, feeling, articulate, almost exactly like a real hand…

            … except that his engagement ring would no longer fit on it.

            He took a dozen deep breaths, trying to calm down, trying to stop the abyss from reaching up and swallowing him whole. Even if all he wanted was to fade to black and never come back… no. He couldn’t do that. Not yet.

 

            _I have to go now, KP._

            He opened his eyes, the lonely pain pushed back one more day. He leaned over to tenderly kiss the gravestone one last time, before rising to his feet, the ebon-black katana slung across his back bumping against his thighs as he did so. He could hear it in his head again, the chittering of a million monkeys, goading, accusing, waiting for him to release them again, through his fists and feet. To unleash the Power once more, to fight, and maybe for a few seconds, to forget.

            He was about to leave when something caught his eye: an slightly faded picture, still vibrant in the rain, probably placed there by Dr. Mr. or Mrs. Possible. It was a snapshot taken after her junior prom night, her beautiful face matched only by her smile as she stood, hand in hand, with a blond haired geek, who was smiling from ear to ear.

            He turned around to start walking away.

 

            _Everything died, along with her, on that oil rig two years ago. Everything I know, everything I cared about, everything that made me happy, made me smile, died along with her two years ago. The only thing left to me is the mission._

_I will continue the mission. I will continue to keep fighting them, just as KP would have wanted me to. I will keep fighting until I find_ him _, and I send him where he can’t harm anyone else anymore, ever. I hope I can make her proud, just like she was so proud of Ronald Dean Stoppable._

_My name is…_ no.

            _My name_ was _Ronald Dean Stoppable. Ron Stoppable, bumbling sidekick, aspiring cook, all around geek… but most importantly, Kim Possible’s best friend. Her boyfriend. The one she was going to marry when they left college._

_Ron Stoppable is dead._

_All that is left to me is a new mission and a new call sign._

_Force._

_Unstoppable Force._

He stepped out of the cemetery, the raincoat’s hood over his head, even as the rain was beginning to stop.

            He still had a mission to accomplish.

 


	2. Prelude: Dancing Into Oblivion

 

Middleton, Two Years Before

 

            “Naco maniac, COMIN’ THROUGH!!!”

            The glass doors of Bueno Nacho swung wide open as a blond meteorite streaked inside, his feet skidding to a stop right in front of the counter with perfect timing, smoke rising from the soles of his sneakers.

            “Boo-YAH! Time to grab some mad munchies! My man Ned, what’s on tap today? The Rondster has got the FEVER, and the only sure cure is MORE NACO!!!”

            Ned, assistant manager of the local Bueno Nacho #582 (an important and respected position, never mind that there were ever rarely more than two people working at a time in this particular establishment), blinked once. “Ron? Ron, is that really you?” He squinted at the grinning teen in front of him, one hand arranging the glasses in front of his eyes. “Jeez, man, where have you been?”

            Ronald Dean Stoppable, bumbling sidekick, aspiring cook, and more recently, the one and ONLY boyfriend of Kim Possible (“Boo-YAH!”), just kept on grinning. “I, my faithful friend and server of excellent food, have been to none other than the Big C for the past two years.”

            Ned just blinked. “Uh. Manhattan?”

            “Not New York, you schmuck!” Ron laughed. “That’s the Big A, not the Big C! To set the record straight, the Big C is none other than, DUN-DUN, college!” He stepped back and placed both hands on his hips. “You, my friend, are looking at a man who is on his way to finishing his Master’s in Culinary Arts, AND, may I add, someone who was offered a scholarship to Cordon Bleu!”

            “Y-you’re kidding!” Ned’s jaw dropped. “Isn’t that…?”

            Ron just crossed his arms and gave him a look of total and utter smugness, his eyebrows moving up and down like a typewriter’s arms. “Oh, it IS. It IS all that, and more! Yes, Ned my friend, the academe of the world have finally accepted that I, Ronald Dean Stoppable, have the BON-DIGGITY cooking SKILLZ!!! BOOOOOOO-YAH! The most leetsauce school of cooking in the WORLD has come knocking on my door!”

            “Wow, Ron! Congratulations! Here…” Ned reached under the counter for a container of chips and sauce, as well as a tray. “This one’s on the house.”

            “You are the rockzor, dog! Mmmm, the Diablo Ultra. Just the cure for homesickness!” Ron leaned over to sniff at the chips. “Mmm, this is exactly just what the doctor ordered.”

            A skittering noise made itself known, as Rufus crawled up to Ron’s shoulder, sniffing at the nachos in the exact same way Ron was sniffing. After a few seconds, Rufus made a happy rodent noise, flashing a thumbs up first to Ron, and then to Ned.

            Ron grinned and patted the molerat. “Yeah, I think the little guy appreciates it too. I’ll sit over at the usual spot, Ned. Muchos gracias, my amigo.”

            “Not a problem, Ron.” Ned blinked and fixed his glasses again. “Um, you seem pretty happy to be here today, Ron. Was college that bad?”

            It seemed to Ned that the grin, impossible as that seemed, only got wider. “Nah, dog, college was pretty cool. My prof for Culinary Arts totally ruled, and the class was awesome. Where else can you eat and study at the same time?”

            “Really? But I mean, what about the rest of college? Didn’t you have to, you know, study and stuff?”

            The grin was still there and not getting any smaller, but Ned thought he saw something else- the beginnings of a blush, improbable as that seemed on Ron Stoppable’s face. “Well… shyeah, it was, kinda, but, um, you know… I had… well, you know, KP got my back, helped me out lots for the other stuff.”

            “KP? You mean… Ms. Possible?” Ned leaned over on the counter, one elbow on its surface. “Are you and her, still… you know… ?”

            Ned thought that the goofy grin would split Ron’s face in half. “Shyeah, man, we’re still, y’know, down. Been that way for three years now. KP’s been such a big help in college and stuff, y’know, I mean, if it wasn’t for her… I dunno if I’d even be in college right now.”

            _Good grief_ , Ned thought. Did the man have any idea what his face looked like whenever he talked about Kim Possible? His voice dropped just that much, whenever he even referred to her. It was crazy, he thought… here was Ron Stoppable, back for summer vacation straight out of college, not a thing changed… except for that one little thing. That one little thing with red hair.

            Ron was _so_ whipped.

 

            “Intelligence confirms it, sir. Both subjects return to Middleton tonight.”

            “And our preparations?”

            “Complete. Epeius is ready to initiate on your word, sir.”

            “What about the boy? Did he… ?”

            “We followed the money, sir. He purchased the item.”

            “Excellent. Then if our comrades in psychiatric profiling are correct, he will most likely propose tonight. Barely a year before he finishes school, and on the most important night of his life – that is when we initiate.”

            “We’ve been waiting for this minor confluence of factors?”

            “You know _nothing_. Hanuman must not walk away from tonight sad, lonely, depressed, or any of those inadequate emotions. Our Icarus must ascend, must fly to the very apex of the heavens – and then, _only then_ , we shall make him _fall._

We shall make him _crash_.

            And we shall make him _break_.”

 


	3. Prelude 2: Banquet Beneath The Sword

            “Ronnie-man! Boy, you are looking fine! C’mere and give me a hug!”

            “Heya, Monique!” Ron leaned up and got inadvertently squashed as Monique enfolded him in a crushing bear hug. “Ooof, are all future fashion designers built with wrestler muscles these days? These are grade-A prime future chef bones, y’know!”

            Monique just laughed and sat down across Ron’s customary table. Between them, Rufus was already working on his fourth set of chips. “Oh, c’mon, boy, I don’t see you for two years, and this is all the hello I get? I’ma gonna tell on you to your girl, don’t you think I won’t.”

            “Sheesh, Monique, not that!” Ron groaned. “I’m in enough trouble as it is. She still doesn’t know that I might have to take extra classes next year if I didn’t ace my physics final.”

            “Well, Ronnie, that’s why honesty is the best policy when dealing with your girl. B’sides, she’s a crazy secret agent lady. What makes ya think she ain’t found that out yet, huh, Rondster?”

            Ron looked away furtively, scratching at the back of his neck. “Gee, I dunno… I was kinda hoping… dumb luck, maybe? I dunno, I just…” he gave a long sigh and slumped. “I dunno, Monique, I just don’t wanna, y’know, be all uncool and disappoint her… I mean… like, she, like, believes in me so much, and stuff…”

            “And you don’t wanna disappoint her?” Monique’s voice was so soft it could barely be heard.

            “…well… um…” Ron had started blushing. “Yeah, y’know, I don’t, cuz…”

            Monique tossed her head back and laughed softly. “Boy, you are _such_ a hopeless softie, don’cha know that?”

            “AM NOT!!!” Ron objected heatedly.

            “Are too,” Monique grinned.

            “Moni, we’re not in high school anymore,” the blonde grumped.

            She was still grinning. “No, we’re sure not, but you’re still blushing like you were a kiddie with a crush in Pre-K, hun.”

            “….grmplemttergrn…” Ronald’s face was nearly crimson red at this point.

            “What’s that, Ronnie?” She knew when she had won.

            “….sigh.” Ron slumped even lower in his seat, and absently reaches out for a nacho chip. “Yeah, you’re right. I dunno, why, with her, I just… y’know. I don’t ever wanna do anything to disappoint her in me.”

            “Doy. That’s because you’re madly in love with her, Ron.” Monique reached over to pat his arm. He was _so_ hopelessly _cute_ like this.

            Ron just nibbled at his chip, still looking down. “Yeah. I do love her. Madly. Like, Twelve-Alarm Diablo Sauce madly.”

            “Awww.” Monique couldn’t help herself, and patted the downcast blond on the head. “And she loves you too, can’t you see that? That’s why, no matter what you do, your girl ain’t never gonna be disappointed in you. She’s just fine like that, our Kim is.”

            Ron was still looking down. “Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, Moni… ‘specially when she isn’t there… I wake up, a little scared, cuz I don’t know, why. Why me? Why did I ever get so lucky? I’m not complaining, but… it feels like a dream, y’know? And I don’t _ever_ wanna wake up. Ever.” He looked up at her, his eyes dreamy. “You know how I need a nightlight to sleep? Ever since Camp Wannaweep?”

            She rolled her eyes. “You only told that story ten million times.”

            “Hey! It was a traumatic experience, y’know?” he retorted, grinning all the same. “Anyway…” His left arm torn open a packet of Diablo sauce, helpfully spreading it over Rufus’ new batch of chips. “So, the first night in college, I was in my dorm right? So, there I was, getting ready to sleep, when, POOFSH, my nightlight goes out. And I think, ok, Ron, don’t panic, you’re a college boy now. But I just couldn’t sleep, I still got scared of the dark, my imagination going wild, right?”

            “It was in the middle of the night, I was hunched over on my bed, clutching at my pillow and blanket. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I grabbed my Kimmunicator and called up KP. Middle of the night, I panicked just like that.”

            “I don’t even remember what I said. All I remember next was that she walked into my room, sat next to me, and gave me a hug.” Ron had a faraway look in his eyes. “Just like that. And she held me, all the way till the morning. I just remember waking up, and there she was, asleep, her hair all mussed up in that cute way every morning, her head on my shoulder. And then, I remember thinking…” Ron paused for a second. “… I remember thinking, that this was the best, most bon-diggity, downright boo-yah morning of my entire life. And you know something else? I’ve never needed a nightlight ever since that morning. Ever.”

            Monique sat there, listening in rapt attention. “Ron. Oh. My. Gosh. You are SO going to end up making me squeal.”

            “Ewww-kay, Moni, just chill,” Ron answered wryly.

            “But… but that… that’s just too _cute_!” Monique squealed in utter delight.

            “Cute and me don’t go too well together, Moni, kinda like molasses and Diablo sauce.There are some things you just don’t blend.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Whatev-AR, Ronald Dean Stoppable. Now, on to more important things.”

            Ron sipped at his soda, playing with the bendable straw. “Like?”

            “Don’t you give me that lip, young man, you know darn well what Moni’s cooking, cuz you’re cooking the same thing.” She moved forward and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that Ron could barely hear. “Remember that thing you told me, over messenger? You know… The Big Question?”

            The soda dropped from Ron’s limp hand. “Monique! Not so loud!” he hissed.

            “Ron. There’s only you, me, Rufus, and Ned in this Bueno Nacho. Me and Rufus are already in on this. And I’m still not sure Ned counts as a person,” she deadpanned.

            “Well, yeah, but…”

            “If you people are going to discuss my shortcomings then feel free to discuss it out of my hearing range,” they heard from the front counter. “Please?”

            Monique just giggled and scooted closer to Ron. “Well?”

            Ron looked furtively left and right, before reaching into his pocket for what looked like a miniature vault. “Rufus,” he called.

            The naked molerat turned, saluted, and with cheerful chittering, placed his paws on the vault’s front, seemingly pressing numerous tiny buttons.

            “Ooooh-kay…” Monique commented, nonplussed.

            “I made it myself, with a little help from Wade, though he doesn’t know what it’s for. It’s got a twin tumbler lock that’ll only open when it receives input from two sets of voices and two sets of fingerprints- mine and Rufus’. Pretty badical, huh?” He grinned.

            “Well, at least I can tell who’ll be best man. Or molerat. You’ve actually been doing a little inventing on the side, Ronnie boy?”

            He just shrugged. “Yeah. For some reason, ever since I started, um…” he blushed again, “…started going out with KP, I’ve actually gotten pretty good with gadgets. I upgraded my moped, and I rigged it so that my Xbox can play PS2 and GameCube games too!” he reported proudly.

            Monique shook her head. “Sounds almost like when you turned into Zorpox.”

            “Can we forget that ever happened? Please? Sheesh. Besides, I don’t do death rays. That’s strictly bad guy stuff.”

            Monique giggled again. “I’m just playin’ with ya, Stoppable. Now lemme see this rock of yours.”

            A metallic voice drifted out from the small box that Rufus was now holding up to Ronald. “Rufus voiceprint and password, matched and accepted. Now waiting for Ronald voiceprint and password.”

            Ronald leaned down, and in a soft, tender voice, whispered, “Me and KP, together forever.”

            “Melting, Ron. I can’t believe that’s your password. I am SO melting.”

            “Shh, Moni, you’ll mess up the voiceprint!” Ron warned her.

            “Ronald voiceprint and password, matched and accepted. Unlocking.” With the faintest hiss of hydraulics, the miniature vault opened up and outward, unfolding like a cardboard box. Monique leaned even closer to peer inside, seeing a velvet lining…

            … and snuggled inside all that lining, a pair of perfect gold rings, each topped with a single exquisite diamond.

            “Oh. My. Gosh. Omigosh. Omigoshomisgoshomigosh.” Monique was almost hopping in her seat with delight. “Ronald! What did you do to get these? Rob a bank?”

            “Shyeah right! The Rondster does not need to resort to such lowdown schemes. I got it with my money of course, from my part time jobs.”

            “Stoppable, stop yanking my crank. I work in the fashion industry, remember? I know my rocks, hun, and those twins right there are pure 24 carat bling bling. Heck, boy, those rings alone are worth ten grand, easy! And you expect me to believe you got those from being a fifth-grade teacher’s assistant?”

            “Hey, dude, those kids were cool,” Ronald answered back defensively.

            “That’s not the point, Ronald Stoppable!”

            “Well, it _was_ from my part time job!”

            Monique raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointedly incredulous look. “Let me guess. You dipped into your trust fund from the Naco deal you made with Bueno Nacho. Am I right or am I right, Rondster?”

            He twiddled his thumbs. “Um. That counts as a part time job.”

            “Good grief, son, didn’t you make a few bajillion from that deal? _Not_ including the amount that Drakken stole from you?”

            “Yeah, come to think of it, carrying ninety-nine million dollars in my pants was a pretty stupid idea…”

            Monique grabbed him by the shoulders. And shook him. Repeatedly. “Stopppable. How. Much. Were. The. Rocks.”

            “I don’t know!” Ron wailed. “I just, you know, went to the jewelry store my friend in college told me about and I just, you know, told them to make me the best one! And then I signed them some dumb check and that was that!”

            “… so, basically, you went and blew all your hard-earned money to get Kimmy an engagement ring with a rock half the size of the moon.”

            “Um.” He looked sheepish. “Shyeah, I guess I did.”

            “And whatever possessed you to do that, Ronnie-boy?”

            “Um.” He looked away and twiddled his fingers again, blushing hard. “Cuz… you know… I mean, shyeah, the money was cool and all… but, y’know, I only get one chance at this, right? And, I mean, I wanna do it right and stuff. And it’s for KP, so, you know, the money’s not really all _that_ much of a big… right?”

            Monique glomphed him with a bone-shattering bear hug. “Ron, my boy, you and Kimmy are gonna end up just fine. Happily-ever-after-fine, boy.”

            “Really, Moni? Gee, that sounds really cool. I’d like that a lot. Yeah, I’d like that a whole lot.” That boy, Monique mused, could light up a stadium with that goofy grin.

            “Now go and wipe that grin off your face, boy, you’re making me jealous,” Monique joked. “And tell me about the rest of your college life…”

 

            Unknown to either of the two, a nondescript gray car had been parked at the lot across the Bueno Nacho, with a pair of men inside, paying close attention indeed to Ron. One of them had a pair of nightvision binoculars trained upon the blond, while the other was speaking on an encrypted millimeter-wave radio. Both men were former special forces, hardened veterans of brutal war. Both men were current intelligence officers, serving a respected, worldwide crimefighting organization.

            Both men worked for Global Justice.

            “This is recon team Alpha. The intelligence was correct. We are in position at Waypoint Beta, and we are maintaining surveillance.”

            A soft, cultured voice answered from the other end. “Continue surveillance. Teams Bravo and Charlie are in position and will support you in case of an emergency. I sincerely hope that will not be required.”

            “Negative, sir,” the officer on the line replied. “Code Hanuman has no idea we’re even here. We will continue the surveillance until Code Briseis arrives. Recommend initiation of Project Epeius.”

            “Recommendation noted. Phase One initiation code: Dies Irae. Project Epeius is now in effect. Your good work will not be forgotten, gentlemen.”

            The figure on the other end of the line killed the connection, and sat back in his plush office chair. He steepled his fingers, and rested his elbows on his office desk, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

            “Epeius?” This came from a slender, elegant man with long red hair lounging on a sofa across the desk. He held a glass of red wine in one hand, and idly toyed with a rapier in the other. “You’ve always been somewhat… esoteric, my dear, esteemed leader, but really now. Epeius?”

            The older man harrumphed. “It is neither my fault nor my responsibility that your education has been less than thorough.” He slowly stood up and moved to the large window that overlooked the rest of the city, his arms folded behind his back. “Epeius, my faithful, ignorant assassin, was the name of the man truly responsible for the Greek victory over Troy. Odysseus planned the wooden horse, true, and he led the attack into the city. But it was Epeius who created the Trojan horse, who allowed the Greek plan to even come into fruition.”

            The long-haired younger man crossed his legs and laughed mirthlessly. “And how does this relate to our current objective, sir?”

            “Simply put, we have found our Epeius,” the older man answered, without turning around. “We have found the one who will build our Trojan horse, the one who will grant us entry into the unbreachable city and the treasures that lie therein.” A slow, cruel smile spread over his face. “In less than six hours, Kimberly Ann Possible will die in a sudden and tragic accident, just another victim of the forces of evil. Her death shall spark a fire that will spread across the whole world and forge the key to Project Epeius.” He turned his head slightly to look at the two Global Justice dossiers that lay upon his desk. One was marked Ronald Dean Stoppable. The other one was marked Kimberly Ann Possible.

            Stamped on the second folder, in blood red letters, was a single word.

            Deceased.

            “And in less than five years after the death of his partner, his best friend, and his girlfriend, Ronald Dean Stoppable, former agent of Global Justice, will become the key that opens the gates of Troy.”

 


	4. Prelude 3: Everything And Nothing

 

            It was nearly closing time at Bueno Nacho when Kim finally arrived. Ned would have closed shop much earlier, considering that Ron and Monique were the only two customers that entire night (three, if one counted Rufus), but Ron had asked him a special favor, and Ned somewhat uncharacteristically agreed to wait an hour past closing time.

            “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, you guys. My parents were just so happy to see me back from college that they invited my relatives over, so, you know, I had to go and greet them all.” Kim dropped her handbag on the seat next to Ron, absently touching his hand as she talked. “Moni! How have you been, girl?”

 

            “Briseis has arrived, sir.”

            “Excellent. Status on Epeius?”

            “Project Epeius is one hour into Phase One. Everything is prepped and ready, sir – we are go for Phase Two on receipt of the codeword.”

            “Requiem Lacrimosa – I repeat, _Requiem Lacrimosa_. The order is _given_.”

            “Acknowledged – Phase Two in effect.” The line went dead.

            The red haired man raised an inquisitive eyebrow. In response, the older man nodded to him. “The pieces are in place.”

            The younger man sighed, and set his wineglass down  on the desk carefully. “I suppose that’s my cue, then.” He stretched out his arms above his head, gripping the rapier’s hilt in one hand. “It’s a hunter’s moon tonight – a perfect backdrop, methinks, for the death and chaos soon to follow.” His arm dropped down, the rapier’s tip a gray firefly flash. “I’ll deal with the loose ends first.”

            The white haired man turned slightly to look at him, a disapproving frown on his face. “Make their deaths quick and painless. They were good men who served well, and deserve no less for that.”

            “Oh, I _suppose_ so,” he replied, pouting with exaggerated reluctance. “You certainly know how to put a damper on a night out.”

            “That’s an _order_.”

            “I’m stubborn, not deaf, my dear commander.” The younger man had already turned to leave, waving a casual farewell, before pausing at the doorway and slightly turning his head. “And the girl?”

            The older man’s lips curved sadistically. “I suppose you do deserve some amusement. Make her death… _memorable_.”

            The answering smile was equally cruel.

 

            Some nights, Ronald Stoppable decided, were just perfect. Tonight was one of them. Actually, tonight was probably the best of them.

            His head was resting comfortably on Kim’s shoulder, his fingers absently filching a cheese-soaked nacho now and then, as his girlfriend – the bestest, awesomest girlfriend in the world, and HIS – animatedly discussed the merits of Maybelline, flattops, college malls,  and Eat Pray Love with Monique.

            Okay, so Kim wasn’t perfect – what _ever_. She was still the awesomest.

            He was about to make a snide remark to Moni about the relationship between women, credit cards, and global warming when their communicators beeped.

            “Drat,” Kim grumbled at she glanced at hers. “Sorry, Moni-bear, but we’re gonna have to take this one.” Her elbow gently started nudging Ron into awareness.

            Monique gave her an amused look. “Ahem – work?”

            “Oh, come on, we just started summer vacation! They promised us!” Ron protested, jolted out of his idle paradise. “Can’t they cut us some slack? I thought they were forming some fancy new team for the small stuff-“

            “C’mon, Ronnie,” the redhead grinned as she tugged on his slack arm. “It’s some costumed moron on an oil rig – probably Dementor or something. We’ll be back in Middleton in an hour, tops!”

             The freckled young man grumbled as he pulled on his jacket.  “Drakk seriously needs to talk to his friends in the supervillain business a little better. Which part of ‘offer of general amnesty’ did they NOT understand?”

            “Please – half the time he still thinks he’s in the middle of another world domination scheme before he realizes he’s sitting in a board meeting. He’s been legit for over a year now and he STILL hides from the cops.” She glanced down again.

            “C’mon, Ronnie-boy, up and at it,” Monique teased him in a singsong voice, as he picked up his drink to gulp it down. “You know what they say – the married couple that spies together, stays together.”

            Ronald spluttered and coughed, barely managing to turn his head and not spit his orange soda in anybody’s direction.

            “Hmm?” Kim blinked, looking up from her communicator. “Did you say something, Monique?”

            “Lil’ ol’ moi? Natch, girl,” she replied with a saucy grin. “Just remonstratin’ to your boy here, that’s all.”

            “Gosh, Moni, but we’re really in a rush – we’ll catch up tomorrow, okay! Promise, nothing but you, me, and shopping!”

            “Lookin’ forward to that, sistah.” Monique winked at Ron, and mouthed to him as Kim turned away to yank her sleepy boyfriend. “ _Pop the Question!”_

“You know I got much love for Moni, KP,” Ron grumbled as he half stumbled out of the nacho franchise, “I really do, but there are times when I seriously wonder how much easier my life would be if I, I dunno, buried her in concrete.”

            His girlfriend just laughed – _god, how he loved to hear her laugh!_ – and punched him affectionately in the arm. “It’s just gonna be me and Monique tomorrow – girl time. You won’t have to drag our shopping bags around, I promise.”

            “Ow! Unless something terrible happens to your car,” Ron muttered under his breath, rubbing his arm. “Which probably will.”

            “There is that,” Kim replied cheerfully.

            “So, explain to me what I’m doing with you on the curb, freezing my frayed yellow hair off?” He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

            “We’re getting picked up tonight – the Spycar’s in the headquarters for upgrades, remember?” She affectionately picked at his hair while explaining. “ And we’ll need something that flies for this sitch. Unless you’d rather swim across the Atlantic.”

            “Hmm, lemme think about that – NO.” They both laughed in the cold summer night.

            As Kim’s chuckles started to subside, Ron glanced at her sideways. “You know I really don’t mind carrying your shopping bags, KP.”

            She grinned without looking at him. “I know, Ron. But seriously – go spend some time with your sister and your parents. I know you miss Hana, and I KNOW she misses you too.”

            “Who? My crazy level-twenty-ninja-samurai-barbarian-paladin sister?”

            She gave him an amused look. “Oh, you’re just jealous at how quickly she became Master Sensei’s star pupil.”

            “KP, she graduated Yamanouchi at the prime old age of FOUR. She was a master ninja-samurai at FIVE. She isn’t normal.”

            “I thought you liked that about her.” She chuckled as she took his arm and stood close to him.

            “Well, shyeah, but she’s still crazy. Besides, how many Japanese ninja-samurai do YOU know are going to have a Bat Mitzvah? I mean, what do I get her then, a set of eighteen katanas? Oy VEY.”

            Kim’s chuckles burst into a full fledged laugh again, as she leaned her head on Ron’s shoulder. “You’re so weird. But I like you anyway.” She blinked once when Ron stayed quiet, and raised her head. “Ron? Did I say something wrong?”

            There was a flurry of blonde as he shook his head. “Nah. You just reminded me – you said something like that the very first time we met.”

            “Mmm-hmm.” She rested her head on his shoulder again. “I did, you’re right.”

            There was a few more seconds of comfortable silence again before Ron spoke. “Hey. KP?”

            Her answer was slightly muffled. “What’s the sitch, Ron?”

            “You’re so perfect. But I love you anyway.”

            She closed her eyes, and snuggled in closer to him. “I love you too, Ron.”

 


	5. Prelude 4: Icarus Falling

 

            “It’s no one we know,” the SEAL copter pilot shouted over the din of the Atlantic storm and the rotor blades. “MO, costume, none of it raised any red flags with your intel boys at Global Justice. My bet is, it’s some new guy trying to make an impression.”

            Kim grinned at him from the back seat, pulling on a GJ jacket. “You know how it is with the new guy, always trying to look good.”

            “Well, he’s off to a dumb start, thank god – no casualties yet, just a lot of damaged equipment and fires. The roughneckers managed to bail out before he took any hostages, so now he’s asking for, ahem, one beelleeon dollars for the rig.”

            Ron blinked at him, halfway through through re-cinching his titanium, no-drop belt. “Did he actually say that?”

            “Well, no, but you know how these supervillain types work.”

            “Only too well,” Kim rolled her eyes.

            “Anyway, what we need you kids to do is take him down before he wrecks any more of this rig. If he damages the struts, we could be looking at another Deepwater Horizon-type spill, and the East Coast beaches are bad enough.”

            “We’re on this sitch,” Kim grinned back at the pilot. “Get us in close enough and we’ll take care of it.”

            “Speak for yourself,” her partner grumbled loudly enough to be heard over the intercom. “Have you seen the SIZE of the waves down there? I’m getting seasick just from looking at them… urp!” He yanked up a hand to his mouth, looking faintly green.

            “Then don’t look at the water,” Kim advised.

            “KP… we’re in the Atlantic. IT’S ALL WATER!”

            “Look on the bright side – at least we won’t break anything if we mess up our parachute landing,” she replied cheerfully.

            Ron looked at her in slightly nauseated horror.

 

            The white haired man stepped into a large, multilevel room; the walls, ceiling, and even the floor was liberally covered in flat screens. The largest of all stood on the wall in front of him, a massive single display currently split up into multiple windows, all focused on the distant oil rig. To his side was a battery of supercomputers, their monitors all linked to reconsats, military-band radios, and even internet service providers. Over a dozen technicians were at work, frantically ensuring that all the machines were working perfectly.

            Above the quiet mayhem, the man spoke in a voice of command, “Status.”

            One of the technicians raised his head from his monitor and scurried over to him. “All assets are in place, sir, and everything is working out as planned,” the white coated flunky groveled. “Requiem Lacrimosa is on schedule and Crimson-One is on site and ready to execute.”

            “Of course he is,” the older man said coldly. “What about us? I want our communication controls to be perfect for this phase.”

            “Delphi Station is at 100 percent. Every single eye in the sky with visual on the target is either ours or has been hacked into. All radio bands within the area have been compromised, and we have full access to direct newsfeeds from the media present.”

            “Fine. Carry on,” he said, dismissing the technician, before walking over to the railing and placing his palms on the cold steel. His eyes searched across the room, unblinking, seeking any mistake. His gaze remained glued to the central screen, as though his stare could influence the events unfolding so far away.

            “So much time,” he whispered to himself in Latin. “So many years, waiting. Watching. And waiting still. Shall fortune favor the fool or the fearless tonight? Shall his ascension - _ours -_ be realized, or will his loss be a tragic footnote?” His lips tightened, his steel gray eyes narrowed. “He is unbound chaos, far from the ideal, yet in all this time, he is the only suitable key. Of such things are plans laid awry, and yet. And _yet_. He may be the only one among us - so few are we - that can assail the breach. He may be my only hope.” He smiled callously. “Do not disappoint me, _Hanuman_.”

 

            “What’s the - urk! - what’s the plan, KP?” Ron yelled over the rain and the explosions, trying to disentangle himself from his parachute lines.

            “He’s up there somewhere in the control tower,” the superspy replied, shrugging off her pack smoothly and pointing up at a tall metal structure engulfed in flames. “The negotiators are still trying to figure out if they can talk him out of it – crazy in spandex and tights, so not the reasonable type, right?” She grinned. “Anyway, when we get the go ahead, you check the rig for anyone injured or left behind. I’ll take a look at the vulnerable points, see if he left any bombs there, or if he’s gonna go old school medieval with a ray gun.”

            “Hey, I know how to defuse bombs now too, remember? I finally passed the spy course,” her partner protested.

            She chuckled and touched his cheek. “I know, sweetie, but you don’t _like_ bombs.”

            “I’m allergic to explosions, what can I say?”

            She laughed again before zipping up her jacket. “I love having you as my partner, Ron, I so do.”

            “Hmm. Do you?” he asked, tilting his head and giving her a goofy smile.

            “Yes, already! Stop fishing for compliments.” She swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

            “Just… I dunno.” He looked back up at the control tower. “Meh, nothing.” Ron went quiet.

            “I know that ‘meh’. Out with it, Stopabble.” She turned to look at him, smiling at his mannerism, before she noticed the thoughful look on his face. The smile faded. “Ron? Something wrong, sweetie?”

            “I was…” he hesitated, voice quavering. “I was… just wondering, I guess.”

            Worried, Kim gently touched his hand. “Ronald? What is it?”

            Ron closed his eyes for a second, before opening them again and turning to face his girlfriend. “I was wondering… would you like to be my partner… for, well. Forever?”

            She started, and then chuckled. “I’ll always be your partner, Ron, you know that. Team Possible always, remember?”

            “Always and forever? You promise?” His voice was cracking slightly now.

            “Ron? Now you’re worrying me for real. What are you –“ She stopped in midsentence.

            In his upraised, shaking hand, was a simple diamond ring.

            Kimberly Ann Possible blinked once, before taking a deep breath. “Ron? Is… is that?”

            “Mmm-hmm.” Ronald Dean Stoppable laughed a little shakily. “I know this isn’t the most romantic place to do ask it, but, well, Monique was bugging me to pop the question tonight, before I started putting it off.” He took a deep, nervous breath. “I know it’s only been four years since we started dating. And I know it’s a bad time to ask and all that – but what can I do, right? Type B personality, and stuff.” His voice began quivering, before he managed to get himself under control. “I’m clumsy and I’m really geeky, and I don’t get this romance stuff, like, at ALL. Heck, there’s a lot I don’t get – why you’ve been my best friend since pre-K, why you’ve kept me as your partner, why you’ve let a guy as uncool as me be boyfriend to a girl as awesome as you. I don’t get it, none of it… _but I don’t care_. I don’t care what other people say, I don’t care how weird it looks. I love you, Kimberly Ann Possible, I love you _so much_ , and I’m your partner forever, if you’ll have me.”

            She went quiet for a few seconds, emerald eyes quietly fixed on him, before smiling softly. “You’re right. You really don’t know romance at all, Ron – you’re proposing to me right before a mission, in the middle of a lousy, cold Atlantic storm. On top of a half-destroyed oil rig, that’s ON FIRE, I might add.” She chuckled again, raising one hand to wipe her eyes. “You’re so weird, offbeat, so indescribably funny and great to be around, you know that? Only you’d think of proposing at a time like because you were afraid you’d end up procrastinating.” Her tears were flowing freely now, but she was laughing. “Yes. God, YES!”

            Ron took her left hand in his own, and slowly, carefully put on the engagement ring, his hands still shaking. She smiled at him, raising it to watch the fires reflected in its facets, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him softly.

 

            The white haired man watched, coldly voyeuristic, as the pair embraced atop the oil platform. “Congratulations, Hanuman,” he quietly said. “Welcome to the rest of your life.” He straightened, and barked at his underlings, “We are committed – where is Crimson-One?”

             “Crimson-One is on standby! All assets are ready!” one of them yelled back.

            He closed his eyes, reflecting for a single second on all the decisions, the carefully built plans that had taken him down this path.

            “Sir? SWAT team is relaying failure of negotiations, the subjects are about to move!”

            Time distilled behind his eyelids, as he quietly contemplated how much was involved in destroying a single man.

            “Global Justice has acknowledged, they’re about to give the go ahead!”

            For the tiniest fraction of a second, he felt pity for his unknowing pawn, and the barest beginning of hesitation.

            “Sir? We need to know your order! Sir!”

            The older man opened his eyes, resolve steeled into his face as he gave the order that would break Ronald Dean Stoppable.

            “Crimson-One, execute, _execute, EXECUTE! ICARUS FALLING!_ ”


	6. Prelude 5: Steel Circle Closing

The explosions began to shatter the night air around them, at the same time their radios simultaneously went wild with noise. Kim quickly disentangled herself from Ron with a cross look, growling, "Oh, he is SO gonna get his." She turned to her partner. "Plan B, Ron. I'm gonna rush the tower before he brings the whole place down. Back me up as soon as you're sure the place is clear." She planted a quick kiss on his forehead. "Game face, sweetie, we got bad guys to own."

He grinned back at her, his mood hardly affected by the interruption. "Got it, KP. Middleton's MVP running back is on the job!" His fingers were still twined with hers, rings touching, as he turned to go. "Kick his rear out of his gear, Kim!"

* * *

"Subjects have split up, Briseis is approaching Crimson-One," a technician manning one of the screens reported.

"Not exactly according to plan, but we'll make do. This should make Phase Two easier."

A sinuous voice intruded on the communications link. "Are you doubting my abilities, my dear commander?"

"Do not underestimate her, Crimson-One," the older man warned. "When truly pushed to their limits, either of them can get lucky and take you down. Combined, your success rate drops dramatically. Your advantages lie in the fact that you've studied her extensively, and that you are an unknown to her. This will be no simple assassination – this will be a _fight_ , and one we cannot afford to lose."

"You forget another important advantage I possess, dear leader."

"I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

"Unlike all of her previous enemies," the voice purred, "I don't intend to take her alive."

* * *

Kim hung off the edge of the catwalk, gloved hands holding onto steel railing as she poked her head up to look at the terrorist. Tight black mask with a skull on the forehead, black cape with a skull on the back, black studded leather jumpsuit ( _Why is it all the really incompetent bad guys dress up like they've got some weird fetish,_ she wondered) with more skulls, and a big honking death ray strapped to one hand. Of course.

The baddie had his back turned to her, and his other hand had no bomb switch that she could see. With that in mind, she had a number of options open to her - swing up into a cartwheel kick? Pull herself up, jump off the railing, and smack him with an overhand right? Or sneak onto the platform, grab him from behind with a jiujitsu throw and end with an armlock? So many choices, so many ways to kick butt.

She decided to go for the third option, just in case he did have a trigger for the bomb somewhere else on his person. Besides, it was probably the least painful one. Kim was in a good mood; after all, she just gotten engaged. Not that the bad guy would  _care_ , of course, but it was the thought that counted.

She was within a couple of yards behind the target when she felt something was wrong. Anyone crazy enough to be caught in public with a getup like  _that_  would either be a) cackling madly, b) boasting maniacally to a minion, or c) or launching in some rambling monologue about how he was going to have revenge, yadda yadda and all that. Instead, the baddie was standing there, stock still.

Kim closed the last few feet in a leap, grabbing at the villain's gun arm and yanking it behind him. "Game's over, whoever you are. Why don't you be a nice supervillain and just give up now? I'm sure those nice people in the SWAT copters would like it if you –"

The answering reply was the last thing she expected. "Please," a sobbing, scared male voice pleaded, "please get me out of this suit!"

The heroine blinked. "Uh… okay?"

"I find it endlessly fascinating, what a human being will do when helplessly caught in events beyond his control." Kim whirled around, letting go of the supposed villain and crouching into a combat stance. The voice came from a dark shape, casually leaning against one of the support girders, the silhouette red from the roaring flames. "Panicked fear is, of course, the most typical reaction. Most would probably find it tedious over time, but somehow I  _never_  tire of it." The figure moved off of the girder, turning to walk towards her in an negligent swagger. "That man, for example," he continued, in a slightly accented, sensuously feral voice. "The last thing he remembered was eating a hasty dinner on his break. When he woke up, he'd been forced into a battlesuit and framed for any number of terrorist acts." Although the rest of him was still shadowed, she could easily see the gleam of a wicked smile. "I suppose I should thank your friend, that idiot Dementor. He never did grasp the full potential of the battlesuit hijack system he designed – unmanned units, for example, that could be controlled remotely."

"PLEASE LET ME GO!" the victim in the suit screamed.

"Hush," the other man replied, in a sibilant whisper. "It's time to sleep now, dear." The figure snapped his fingers, and before Kim could respond, the suit's free hand rose up, grabbed the hostage by his chin, and cleanly snapped his own neck. Her hands clapped over her mouth in shock, as the innocent pawn's head lolled at a horrible angle, the suit keeping his corpse upright.

She spun around to face the murderer, keenly aware that this enemy was like no one she'd faced before. In all her years as a crimefighter, she'd never faced anyone capable of snuffing out a human life which such wanton carelessness. "What do you want?" the redhead demanded, as she dropped into a crouch and prepared to fight for her life.

Again she saw that death's head grin. "I thought you'd never ask," he purred, as his rapier slid out from its scabbard with a steely hiss. "All I want," he rasped with his mad leer growing wider, "is to watch you  _BURN._ "

* * *

"Crimson-One is in contact. He's begun close quarters engagement."

"Engage ECM," the white haired man barked. "Activate our dormant worms within the networks. Disrupt all live feeds from the site. Internet, radio, video, take them all down."

"Done, sir," one of the technicians said after a second, as news stations around the world began dropping off the air. "All that's left are any on-site recording systems."

"Signal our air asset. Echo-Mike-Papa," the leader ordered. " _Blind them_."

Over a hundred miles away, a lone, Stealth-modified JSF-35 Lightning II broke from its holding pattern along the eastern seaboard and streaked deeper into the wind-churned Atlantic. "This is FERRET-1, over," the pilot called over the radio. "My weapon is tracking, requesting confirmation for Wild Weasel strike."

"Weapons free, FERRET-1, strike mission is go."

The pilot depressed a button on his side-stick, launching a single missile from beneath one of the aircraft's wings. "Fox-One, EMP munition  _away_!"

* * *

Ron stumbled back out onto the platform, blackened and coughing.  _Nobody else down below, and no bombs either!_ For all his bravado at his newfound skills - after all, he'd only _barely_  passed the demolitions course - he wasn't all that keen on disarming time bombs inside a floating environmental hazard. He looked around, eyes tearing from the acrid petroleum smoke, as he yanked his communicator off his cargo khakis to call up Kim. "KP? Uh, KP? I can't see anything 'cause of all this smoke... it buuuurns!" He coughed again, realizing that all he was getting on his radio was static. He immediately tried to get in touch with Wade - still nothing.

"Oh, man. What did she say - control tower, got it!" He turned to sprint up the catwalk steps.

* * *

Kim launched a roundhouse kick at the assassin's weapon wrist, using the momentum to spin herself around and throw a right straight at his face. The flame-haired man deftly backstepped, her fist an inch short of his lunatic smile as he smoothly pulled his rapier back in and swatted her arm away by the hilt. She sold it, pretending that the parry knocked her off balance, before dropping to a knee and spinning her leg towards his feet.

The cheshire grin never leaving his face, he deftly tossed his weapon to his other hand and dropped to his side, both feet kicking up into the air right over Kim's legsweep. He landed on his free hand, his lower body still in midair, as he slashed downward at Kim.

The heroine dropped prone onto her back, trapping the blade in both palms in a butterfly catch and simultaneously lashing out with both feet at the assassin's midsection. He released the rapier, dodging her kick by spinning around in a complete circle on his free hand, before grabbing the handle as he spun back into place and sliding it back out between her palms. Both combatants nimbly landed back on their feet, Kim doing a kip-up into a combat stance, while her opponent launched himself off of his handstand on both feet.

The assassin pulled himself up, drooping over slightly, body shaking as he began to laugh insanely. "You," he growled, looking up at her from between the strands of his long, blood red hair. "You ARE everything they promised. Kimberly Ann Possible - the greatest heroine in the world. The right hand of justice.  _The Red Angel._  Supervillains, terrorists, aliens - none of them could stand before you." His head tilted sharply to the side, eyes wide and teeth gleaming. "You can truly do anything, can you not, my dear?"

She gave him a grim grin in reply. "That's what it says on my site, Mister. And 'doing anything' is gonna include kicking your butt and putting your certifiable sweet self behind bars." Despite her nonchalant voice, Kim was trying to buy time. In the bare seconds they'd spent in close combat, she'd already realized that he was the most dangerous opponent she'd ever faced in hand-to-hand. His speed, instincts, and raw strength were better than Shego's, Yori's, Fiske's or even Sensei. She might have had a chance if she'd deployed with her battlesuit, but communications were down, and she wasn't sure how quickly GJ would be able to get the suit to her, anyway. She needed an ace in the hole to beat this guy.

That's what her martial artist, monkey-powered boyfriend was for.

Another series of explosions rocked the entire oil rig, as heroine and villain stood facing each other on the fire-swept platform. As the booming receded, the man ran his fingers back through his scalp and stood up straight. His eyes burning with bloodthirsty madness, his smile suddenly disappeared. "Oh. I see." His head tilted the other way. "You're waiting for your partner, aren't you?"

_Ron, sweetie, where ARE you?_ "There's plenty of beatdown to go around. I hope you don't mind if I share," she quipped.

"You know," he continued, "I was told that the two of you were unbeatable." He turned to the side and slowly shuffled around her, his arm hanging limply and the rapier's tip dragging on the perforated steel. "I would dearly love to prove my naysayers wrong, but alas - I have a job to do, my dear. I do hope  _you_  don't mind."

Kim warily followed his movements, feet making the barest adjustments to keep her facing the lunatic as he circled around her. A bright white nova burst in the distance, followed by a sphere of blue sparks. She saw her communicator go berserk, lights flashing randomly, before being completely shut down.

"Ah. There it is," the man said to no one in particular, one eyebrow raised at the light show. "It is time, then." He suddenly turned to face her. "Show me everything you have, Red Angel. Show me the power that made Kim Possible  _legend_. Show me the power that has saved the world time and again, and yet  _again still_." He raised his empty hand to his face, as he stared at her blankly from between splayed fingers. "Show me the last, brilliant fire in your soul.  _Show it to ME! IT IS TIME!_ " He moved his thumb to his mouth, eyes bloodshot and teeth bared in a predator's greeting. "It is time for you to  _burn!_ " He bit deep into the pad of his thumb, the blood trickling down his hand and his chin.

"Escalating: Skirmish Protocol."

He raised his arm and then slammed down his bloody thumb onto floor, rapidly inscribing a design. Every one of her instincts yelling at her to interrupt him, Kim broke into a run, leaping into the air to hit him with an axe kick. From where she was, she could see the painted blood catch fire, turning the diagram into a burning sigil of pure malice and nihilism.

" _Skirmish Protocol Stage One: _Hellsworn_ Rapture."_


	7. Prelude Final: Red Angel's Requiem

Prelude Final: Advent Of Reckoning

* * *

Crimson flames erupted around the assassin, erupting into a circular blast wave that caught Kim in mid-air, knocking her backward. She flipped over, managing to land on both feet as she clawed at the steel flooring with one hand to halt her momentum. She skidded back several yards before stopping, slightly winded but otherwise unharmed.

"Ok. Flashy, I'll give you that," she told the assassin, throwing back her hair with one hand as she straightened up. "Now it's my turn to-"

She suddenly saw the villain's bared teeth, laughing grotesquely right in front of her. Pure instinct made her duck down as the rapier swept the air above her head, its tip singing a banshee's dirge above the destruction around them. She heard a tortured groan behind her, and without looking, leapt to the side before the severed half of a reinforced steel girder fell on her. She landed in a roll, backflipping into a standing position, as she watched her enemy jump twenty feet into the air from behind the fallen support. Kim ran flat out forward, jumping onto the girder, then kicking off and jumping even higher into the air, twisting her entire body into a full power circle kick.

"Skirmish Protocol Stage Two: Hellsworn Dirge."

The foot slammed down, capable of breaking through concrete – and hitting only air. She suddenly felt a hand grab her ankle and twirl her around once, before letting go and launching her all the way to another support beam. The breath blew out of her lungs as she crashed into the steel, barely managing to avoid breaking anything. The red haired man reappeared above her before she started falling, almost too fast to see, his free hand rearing back and then lashing downward in a brutal left hook. “Attack Protocol: Ripple Fire.”

Kim brought up both arms to block, but the hit slammed her straight down, numbing her forearms from the sheer impact. As her body careened toward the floor, she barely glimpsed him diving down past her, a streak of blood red and mad laughter. She smashed into the floor, bouncing up a foot from the power of the strike, coughing up blood in an eternal second before she felt the assassin's steel toed boot hit her ribs. Again she flew across the steel floor, her opponent soccer kicking her body clear away. The redhead bounced a few times, before rolling into a limp heap.

The madman laughed, arrogantly sauntering over to the heroine's fallen form. "Over? So soon? Have you burned out already, Red Angel?" He leaned down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking the unconscious girl off the floor at arm's length from him. "It's a pity we'll have to part so soon, my dear." He tapped her unresisting cheek with his rapier. "Perhaps your boyfriend will provide me with more amusement when I break every single bone in his-"

Kim's eyes snapped open. Both hands grabbed the assassin's wrist as she pulled herself up, hitting him in the chin with both knees.

_"DON'T-"_

She dragged his arm down with her as she dropped to the floor, bringing his wrist to her knee and slamming it down with all her might.

_"-YOU DARE-"_

The redhead let go of the broken wrist, planting herself firmly on both feet in a wide legged stance as her enemy staggered back. Her right fist snaked forward in a twisting  _seiken_  karate punch, hitting his midsection squarely on the solar plexus.

_"-TOUCH-"_

The villain crumpled forward, bent over towards her as she dropped to one knee and placed both palms on the floor, gathering power into her feet and lower legs. As he began to topple forward, she suddenly released it like an uncoiled spring, launching into a bicycle kick aimed at his chin. His head snapping back up as she rose into the air, Kim flipped over at the apex of the kick, and brought both hands together above her head. She attacked with a double axe handle strike on the back of his head as she fell back down, smashing his face into the ground.

_"-HIM!"_

She hopped back as she landed, still crouched in fighting posture, panting heavily and bleeding from the side of her mouth. "You so did NOT threaten my boyfriend! And unless you want another world class can of industrial buttkick opened, you'll stay-"

"Actually, my dear," the supine form interrupted her, "I DID threaten him." Unbelievingly, Kim watched him drag himself back upright, the bloodied mad smile still on his face even as his broken left wrist dangled uselessly from his arm. "And you know what else? I think I shall try another helping of that 'can' you so kindly offered." He raised the broken appendage to his face, eyeing it with disdain, before spitting blood onto his wrist. His right hand rose up and with his index finger began to draw on the fluid.

"Skirmish Protocol Stage Three: Hellsworn Coronach."

Winded, battered and exhausted, Kim could only watch as the bone beneath the skin on his wrist visibly reshaped itself. Within seconds he raised his left hand once more, flexing it contemplatively, before he leaned down to pick up his fallen rapier. "I must thank you, my dearest Red Angel," he applauded her, sardonically clapping his hands as he began to circle around her once more. "You've reminded me of pain, taken me to the threshold of death and defeat." He laughed hollowly. "It's been so,  _so_  very long since I've faced someone capable of what you've done. And amongst all those I've killed, only  _you_ , my dearest,  _dearest_  Red Angel, have made my blood race like this." His face turned grotesquely tender at that point. "For that, you deserve to know – I don't intend to kill your beloved. After your passing, he shall achieve his full potential, remade –  _by us, and by your death_  – into something...  _divine._ " He sighed softly. "It is almost a pity you shan't see what your beloved will become."

He suddenly smiled again. "But oh, he _will_  see how  _you die._ "

He raised his left arm up, and snapped his fingers, the scattered droplets of blood on the steel suddenly flaring into dark red flames, reshaping themselves into more runic designs.

"Skirmish Protocol Stage Four: Hellsworn Elegy."

The designs coalesced into a multitude of ethereal spheres that began to float up and spin around the assassin. The red haired man closed his eyes, and began to gesture with his arms, conducting a terrible orchestra to a funeral march that only he could hear. Kim began to run, as the assassin suddenly flung out an arm at her. With that, one of the spheres stopped its orbit and streaked towards her. It exploded right behind her, cratering the steel structure and knocking her off her feet. The girl landed, catlike, and continued to run, as the man started to launch the spheres at her one by one.

* * *

Ron stumbled up the stairs, hearing the bursts and explosions from the control tower. As the fight came into view, he saw his fiancée stumble away from yet another explosion, bruised and singed all over. "Kim!" he yelled over the din. "I'm here, I got your back-"

The assassin turned to him, his conducting interrupted. "Ah," he observed clinically, "the guest of honor arrives." He flung out an outstretched hand, and the spheres stopped their dance. "Attack Protocol: Victor Target."

Every one of the energy spheres rocketed towards the blonde sidekick, Ron skidding to a stop, running to the side and nimbly dodging the sequential blasts erupting behind him.

Kim wearily stood up, holding a bleeding arm to her side. "Ron! Get out of here! Get backup - GJ, Shego,  _anyone!_ "

"Are you kidding, KP?" Ron yelled back as he hopped over another blast. "I can't even get the Bueno Nacho takeout guy, much less Global Justice - I told you we shouldn't have signed up with AT&T!"

"I'm  _serious_ , Ron!" she screamed back at him. "You can't take him!  _We_ can't take him!  _Get away from him!"_

"We're Team Possible, KP - if we can't beat him... then we  _BOTH RUN!_ " The boy abruptly changed direction and rushed directly for his lady, a blue glow enveloping him as the ancient power rushed through his veins. As Ron Stoppable, he was a fairly decent sidekick - frequently clumsy, true, but more often than not he stumbled his way to victory.

As the receptacle of the Mystical Monkey Power, as triggered by danger to someone he loved, he was a juggernaut.

He reached out his hand to grab Kim, intending to yank her with him and jump off this crazy train. If his lady wanted backup, he'd frigging GET backup - Shego and all her brothers, Team Impossible, the entire Yamanouchi school and every single taser rifle toting GJ sniper he could lay his hands on. Then he'd see about finding this whackjob and getting some payback-

The assassin suddenly appeared in front of him, dropping his rapier and reaching out with both hands, crackling flames forming between them.

_"Skirmish Protocol, Stage FIVE-"_

_"_ It's BONUS stage time, you renaissance fair reject!" Ron roared out, focusing his power into his right fist and arcing it backward as he continued his head-on charge.

The assassin smiled.

**_"HELLSWORN THRENODY!"_ **

A wall of searing hell erupted from the assassin's hands, rising all the way to the top of the structure and then crashing upon Ron like a burning wave. The blonde sidekick ignored the assault, the blue energy surrounding him protecting him from its effects. He focused the Mystical Monkey Power into his fist, an azure blaze leading the way as he cleaved a path through the crimson energy, aiming directly at the poor fool who had DARED hurt his KP.

The crack of lightning echoed like a bomb burst as the red haired man met the attack, Ron's fist slamming into the assassin's waiting right hand. A shockwave burst from the impact, causing the remaining steel supports around them to buckle from the pressure and silencing both sapphire and ruby flames.

Ron screamed as he felt his fingers crack, the villain laughing madly in his face. The man's hands were glowing with concentrated vermilion fire, overwhelming the blue lightning sheathing the blonde. Stoppable felt even more of the mystic energy flood into his body, and he willed it to his right leg, lashing out with a desperate kick to his enemy's head. The foot flew like a unerring blue meteor, the wind pressure from the empowered attack gouging an inch deep furrow into a steel girder behind the assassin. The madman's eyes merely widened in glee, baring more teeth as his left hand casually swatted the kick away, and then rose up and closed.

Ron nearly blacked out as the burning fist hammered into his leg, shattering the azure energy sheath, as well as his tibia.

Kim's partner collapsed to his remaining good knee as the assassin continued to crush his fist with his right hand, and began to relentlessly pummel his face with the other. "NOT YET!" the lunatic roared. "TOO WEAK! YOU ARE NOT YET READY!"

“STOP IT!”Kim screamed at him, sobbing as she weakly tried to stand. _“STOP IT!”_

The red haired man abruptly stayed his hand, slowly turning his head to look at her. “Is that your wish, dearest Red Angel? Would you rather I face you, instead?”

The young woman staggered to her feet, nearly losing her footing before she raised her hands in a combat stance, glaring at him from beneath her sweat matted hair. “You want some?” Her right hand tauntingly beckoned him. “You’re gonna get _some_.”

The assassin smiled and let go of Ron’s useless crushed fist, letting him collapse to the floor, face a mask of blood. He leaned down to the young man, lifting his chin with one finger. “You must open your eyes,” he whispered, his voice eerily gentle. “You _must_ see this. See this, and remember it for the rest of your life.” He lowered his lips to his ear, continuing to speak softly. “Watch her, Ronald Stoppable. _Remember her_. Remember how she fell, not quietly, but burning out the last seconds of her life. Burning like an angel fallen from the celestial heavens.” He paused as the sidekick forced his eyelids open from beneath a haze of blood, before going on with an overtone of contemptous pity. “The world will never see her like again, child. Never, ever, again.” His next words rasped cruelly from his throat. “Now watch the Red Angel _fall_.”

Kim Possible staggered forward, and then broke into a dead run.

_“KP!”_ Ron cried out. _“NO!”_

She leapt the last few feet, right arm reared backward for a last, desperate attack. The assassin closed his eyes, and then swiftly turned, fists roaring with unchecked flame. He clinically watched her dive at him, gauging her descent.

The sound of bones cracking rang loud in the air, as the madman ducked neatly beneath her fist and struck her full on in midair. Her eyes widened as she coughed a gout of blood, barely landing on her shaky feet as she clutched her shattered ribs. The assassin paused, both arms hanging by his sides, before he crouched over slightly, pulling back his right arm as the unholy roar of black and red flames swirled into his knuckle.

“Attack Protocol, Target Locked -“

_“KIM!”_ her fiancé screamed.

“- Weapons _FREE_.”

The entire structure rocked, the impact of the killer’s fist booming over the entire area, as the entirety of his focused power exploded, point blank, against Kimberly Ann Possible’s chest. The burst illuminated the abyssal sea all around them, the entire top section of the oil rig blasting up and away from the force of the detonation wave. She blew backward, skidding on her feet, almost reaching the edge of the platform before her limp form stopped, and fell over onto the unyielding metal.

The tortured steel beneath them groaned, the rig’s stability compromised as one of the struts gave way, causing the entire platform to incline. The red haired assassin watched impassively as Kim began to slide over into the sea.

Summoning every last ounce of power in his body, Ron jerked himself upright and dashed past the killer, leaping forward and barely managing to grab his fiancee’s sleeve with his good hand as she fell over the edge. Ignoring his body’s screams of pain, he slammed down the broken fingers of his mangled left hand into the perforated steel. “KP! I’ve got you! _Don’t let go, PLEASE!”_

Another strut gave way beneath them, and Kim Possible dangled further down, hanging above the storm-tossed waters. Her eyes blearily opened, and she looked up into the face of her beloved, a small, peaceful smile on her lips.

“You’ll be okay, Kim, I got you, I got you, _please_ , don’t let go,” Ron pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

“Ron,” Kimberly Ann Possible whispered up at him as another explosion ripped through the facility, “I love you.”

The sleeve ripped.

All Ronald Dean Possible could do was watch his partner, his best friend, his girlfriend, _his fiancée_... _his life_ … fall away into oblivion.

_I’m talking about graduation, and_ us _, and what comes after. This whole thing has shown me that I- I can’t live without you._

_Ron, please, get a grip. Nothing is_ ever _gonna come between us._

He screamed her name out into the uncaring night sky, unable to comprehend anything except her loss.

The assassin walked over to the young man’s broken, sobbing form, leaning down to whisper into his ear.

_“_ All it takes is one bad day.”

The killer stood up, clinically observing the SWAT team helicopters approaching the area, before walking away from Ron Stoppable.

“Crimson-One is extracting. Requiem Lacrimosa is complete.“

“Begin Phase Three.”

 

Stoppable stumbled into his family’s house, ignoring his parents’ worried questions as he climbed up the stairs directly to his room. He entered and locked the door behind him without turning on the light, unwilling to face the rest of his life. His destroyed left hand swathed in makeshift bandages, his other hand swept over his cabinet of comic books, looking for a specific one.

He’d gotten it a couple of years ago in college. It was Kim’s birthday present to him, in fact, a set of first editions from one of his favorite story arcs. His fingers found the right one and pulled it out, as he sat down on his bed and opened it. Ron mechanically flipped through the pages until he got to the right one; he could barely read it by the dim moonlight, but he remembered the lines only too well.

_"All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once. Am I right? I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day, and everything changed."_  

His tears fell on the page, as his body was wracked by sobs again, the direction of his entire life irrevocably changed.

Because all it took was one bad day.

 

 

 

 


	8. Interlude: Red Angel’s Remembrance

 

_ Good Morning America, _ ABC News

_“… refuse to believe the tragic news, it is confirmed that Kimberly Possible was not among the evacuated survivors of the oil rig tragedy. At the same time, there is_ as yet _no concrete evidence that that Ms. Possible did not escape the – hold on… excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We’re getting a report from one of our affiliates in New York… ok, we’re going live_ now _to Liberty State Park, where there have been new developments.”_

_[Camera shifts to Liberty Walkway, where a large number of people have gathered close to the water’s edge. A police line separates the rubberneckers from the cluster of cops, National Guard, and EMT’s. The drone of Coast Guard helicopters can be heard over the noise of the crowd, and before long a Coast Guard patrol boat begins to approach.]_

_“What do you think it is, George?”_

_“Can’t say as yet, Robin. We don’t even know exactly what transpired last night. Remember that all we have are eyewitness accounts of what happened; all newfeeds and recording devices were corrupted during the tragedy. Security experts all over the world have stated that, in all likelihood, it was a systematic and planned disruption by whoever committed this act.”_

_“That’s true – all we have right now are eyewitness accounts. And the only one who was actually there, Mr. Ronald Stoppable, was just admitted into Middleton General for shock and injuries sustained in the incident. It may take a while for anyone to know what_ really _happened.”_

_[The patrol boat docks by the side of the Liberty Walkway. Over the heads in the crowd can be seen Coast Guardsmen moving out of the vessel, their movements slow and deliberate. A hush falls over the crowd, and the camera zooms in;  some of the men can be seen taking off their hats as the crowd gradually gives way.]_

_“We’re seeing activity on the waterside. Robin, does our affiliate know what’s going on down there?”_

_“I’m not sure, this could be – oh. Oh, my God, George. Oh, god.”_

_[As though a ripple passes through the crowd, all the people, civilians, soldiers, and police alike begin to lower their head and remove their headgear. The camera cuts to a shot of an EMT, medical equipment clenched in her shaking hands, the young woman trembling in impotent grief. Microphone picks up the sound of sobbing from somewhere within the crowd. Camera pans back to the somber group of Guardsmen, who can now be seen reverently carrying a black body bag between them, an American flag draped respectfully over it. Camera slowly zooms in to a stray lock of red hair peeking out from underneath the flag and lingers on the shot._

_Camera zooms back out to the studio, both hosts completely silent as they watch the affirmation of their fears, before the man speaks.]_          

            _“This will change everything.”_

 

_ Dateline NBC,  _ NBC

            _“… originally planned as a small, private affair. However, in deference to the many people who have admired and loved her around the world, the Possible family agreed to a state funeral, befitting Ms. Kimberly Possible’s status as heroine and symbol. Although only family and friends will be present, the family has graciously allowed the media to cover the event, allowing the millions of mourners around the world to share in their grief. Our thoughts, and our prayers, go out to them.”_

_ BBC World News,  _ BBC One

_“… continuing live coverage of Miss Kimberly Possible’s funeral. Speaking now is Mister Doctor James Timothy Possible…”_

_“Many knew her as a heroine. As the girl who could do anything – she liked to say that herself. More recently, as the Red Angel, the girl who’s saved the world more times that I can count – and I can count quite a bit. I_ am _a rocket scientist, after all.”_ He looked up from the podium and flashed a small, forced smile. _“But our family lost more than a heroine, than an angel. To me and my wife, she was a daughter. To her brothers, she was their big sister. To her friends, and the people who loved her… well, they can tell you better than I can. But to me, personally, she was – she_ is _. She always_ will _be – forever - my little Kimmie-Cub.”_

_“… budding fashion designer, close friend and former classmate Monique…”_

_“There’s a lot of words people are gonna use about my friend. Superhero, superspy, super-plus-anything, pretty much. But if I had just one word to describe Kim? Just one? It would be_ fierce _. That’s how my girlfriend rolled. It was how she lived, how she loved. It was the way she did_ everything _; didn’t matter if she was cheering her heart out for the Mad Dogs, doing a school project, or kicking bad guy butt. She was fierce, was our Kim.”_ The young girl stopped, and visibly fought for a second before regaining her composure. _“It’s how she lived, and for damn sure it’s how she went out.”_

_“… past member of Team Go, former mercenary villainess turned security consultant Shego…”_

_“Sure, Kim and I fought. A LOT. Out of everyone here, nobody’s faced her from the other side of the fence as many times as I have – well, except maybe Dr. D there.”_ She nodded to a blue skinned man sitting in one of the front rows, looking uncomfortable in a black coat with the collar turned up. _“We also worked together a couple times, more after the whole Lorwardian mess. Anyway, the point is, I’ve known Kim as both her enemy, and her friend. And I’d like to think that wherever she is right now, she’s listening to us, maybe laughing at how silly we’re all being. And if she is… well, I can’t think of any better words to tell her than the ones D came up with.”_ The green skinned woman looked up into the somber skies. “ _You really_ were _all that – you hear me, girl? You really were_. _”_

_“… and finally, Ronald Dean Stoppable, her partner and boyfriend, will begin speaking…”_

_“The truth is that we all lost someone special,”_ the young man said in a dead monotone, his gloved left hand gripping tightly onto the podium surface. _“The people she’s helped, the people who admired her, the people who loved her.”_ He closed his eyes, ignoring the faint drizzle falling onto his face. _“A lot of us… a lot of us aren’t going to be able to let her go easily. I know. I’ve been her friend since we were kids. She is – I’m sorry, she was my best friend. And I…”_ His voice faltered, as a young Japanese girl by his side reached up to gently touch his hand. _“I love you, KP, and I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”_

 

_Happening Now,_ Fox News

            _“… in an unprecedented turn of events, Betty Director, head of Global Justice, has announced her resignation from her post. Sources indicate that internal pressure from the senior officers of Global Justice, as well as from the US government, was instrumental in her decision to step down. Allegations of inadequate leadership were brought to a head by the tragic death of Kimberly Ann Possible, possibly the most well known and well loved of Global Justice’s agents, as well as the resignation of Ronald Dean Stoppable, Ms. Possible’s partner and fiancé. Mrs. Director read the following statement during the press conference.”_

_‘I, Betty Director, have tendered my resignation effective immediately. Due to the sad events that have recently occurred, the senior leadership of my organization have expressed doubts regarding my methods and abilities. Since this is tantamount to a vote of no confidence, I have decided that it would be in the best interests of Global Justice- in order for it to remain an effective crime fighting entity- for me to step down.’_

            _“Succeeding her to the post is Marcus Winters, formerly the chief financial officer of Global Justice. It is rumored that Winters spearheaded the effort to have Mrs. Director replaced. Mr. Winters has a well known reputation of having a hardline stance against crime in general and ‘super-criminals’ in particular. In the past several years he has called for the use of increasingly lethal methods and weapons against what he calls ‘elements that are destructive not merely to society but to civilization itself.’ In light of recent events, there are many who agree with his point of view…”_

_ Taking Stock _ , Bloomberg Television

            _“… ending bullish today with renewed investor confidence, as the chief of Global Justice announced a raft of new measures for counteracting the supervillian threat. Mr. Winters has pushed forward the creation of VTR-T’s, or Villainous Threat Response Teams, ending the era of small superagent groups. The new VTR Teams will composed of professional, former special forces soldiers, capable of engaging any supervillain threat. Furthermore, these units will now be able to defend themselves effectively, armed with the new Rules of Engagement that Marcus Winters has signed into law with the United Nation’s consent. The updated ROE allows Global Justice agents to preemptively use lethal force, as well as the new weapons commissioned by the peace agency, a definite break from former policy…”_

 

_Larry King Live_ , CNN

_“… now, Mr. Winters, this may sound like a pretty rude question to ask, but it’s something that’s being asked in a lot of homes even as we speak: don’t you consider your methods rather, well, extreme?”_

_“I’m actually rather glad you asked that question, Larry. I have no compunctions about answering this in public, where it should be discussed.”_

“Go on.”

_“Well, as you know, we at Global Justice have a mandate to fight crime, specifically, the ones perpetuated by super powered villains and crazed scientists. Please note, we deal on a daily basis with entities that possess a frightening capacity for destruction. As an example, Mr. King, a few years ago the world was attacked by autonomous combat drones disguised as souvenir toys.”_

_“You’re speaking, of course, about the Mini Diablo incident, when Dr. Drakken bought out the Bueno Nacho chain and used it to sell his terrorist weapons.”_

            “Precisely, Larry. Billions in property damage and the trauma inflicted on all those innocent children should have been warning enough of the dangers posed by these madmen. The old GJ policy was to simply try to capture them alive and then imprison them. Apart from the danger this misguided policy posed to agents, a simple prison sentence cannot hope to contain these super powered lunatics. Need I remind you of the prison break numbers under Mrs. Director’s watch?”

            “Mr. Drew Lipski, however, was fully pardoned for his actions during the Lorwardian conflict, and is according to all accounts a… well, a mostly reformed man. Many would call him a shining example of former Global Justice policy.”

            “With all due respect to Dr. Lipski – I’ve heard the man is a leader in reconstructive environmental engineering now – with all due respect to him, he is the exception that proves the rule. Let’s face it, most of Ms. Possible’s foes were essentially beaten into submission by the greatest agent Global Justice ever had. They quit after the Lorwardian conflict because they realized the only time Dr. Drakken ever succeeded, was when he tried to save the world! Surely, Mr. King, it’s unfair to expect ALL of our agents to perform to Ms. Possible’s world-beating standards. That is why I’ve implemented new directives and methods, designed for a more realistic way to deal with these criminals.”

            “But some say these new methods of yours trample all over the rights of-”

            _“_ Rights? _Tell me, Larry, what of the rights of their victims? What of the rights of the people they prey upon, helpless against their might? What about the rights of Kim Possible, a beautiful young woman in her prime, needlessly killed,_ murdered _, by yet another deranged maniac, because of the foolish, tenderhearted policies enacted by the old Global Justice? Tell me, Larry, what about_ her _?”_      

            _“Mr. Winters, there are also some who say that you’ve been using the death of Ms. Possible for your own ends, that you’re using her as a rallying point-”_

_“I will not deny it. Why should I? This was something that was bound to happen under Mrs. Director. And if Ms. Possible’s tragedy can be used to improve a flawed but important instrument of justice, wouldn’t you think she’d gladly agree to be used in such a way, Larry?_

_She_ is _a rallying point. While she lived, she was idolized by all who knew her, all the lives she saved, she touched. The worldwide vigils we saw on this very network a few months before, the millions of mourners; in her death, she reminded us of how beautiful, and yet how fleeting life can be. The world owes her more than we can ever repay on the basis of her professional work alone. It would be a disservice to her memory, her family, to us all, but most importantly to_ her _, not to learn a lesson from all this._

_No more Kim Possibles will die under my watch. No more promising young women beloved by the world will be lost to slavering, insane fiends. Global Justice will use every resource at its command to protect the world, no matters what it takes to do so. I swear this upon the memory of Kimberly Ann Possible.”_

 Global Justice New York

            “… and I’d like to thank you, all of you, for your continuing dedication and support,” the white haired man declared in a booming voice, reaching every person in the vast control room. He grinned broadly, looking for all the world like a kindly grandfather doting on his descendants. “Now, I know there have been some rumblings of discontent, and I’d like to address that issue. Some of you think that our agency has become… well, become confused and hasty, in the wake of recent crisis. Let me assure one and all, our commitment to peace, to justice, has NOT changed. Our mission is still the same – to protect against cataclysm. We are the few and the proud, and we stand on the ramparts of civilization. We stand against those who would plunge us into eternal darkness, and I am DAMN proud of every single one of you.” He raised his glass of champagne. “To peace, prosperity, _and global justice!_ ”

            The hall erupted into cheers and laughter, as the New Year’s party began in earnest. The white haired man strode through the crowd, dispensing small talk and casual jokes as he made his way to the exit. He gave his glass to an usher and nodded pleasantly at the suited bodyguards watching over the function. “Don’t work too hard tonight, boys – this is a Global Justice celebration, and last I checked, y’all were still on the payroll, “ he cheerfully admonished them.

            The men laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Winters!” they chorused, as the head of Global Justice patted them on the shoulder before making his way out of the hall, walking down the empty corridor. The smile on his face gradually fell away, the mask dissolving into a cold, calculating look, as he made his way to his private office. Closing the door behind him, he strode over quickly to his desk, reaching beneath the surface and pressing a hidden button.

            “Tactical void transfer,” he ordered. “Legend’s End. Passcode Epeius.”

            He blinked once as the teleport completed, sending him into a similar looking room. He immediately strode out, stepping into a cavernous chamber crisscrossed with catwalks and service elevators, the hum of steel blue machines everywhere. Hundreds of scientists and engineers were scattered throughout, tending to their machines like ancient monks restoring priceless manuscripts. Off to one side, mass produced copies of the GJ battlesuit were being customized, the colors changed to red and black and various weapons being added. Off to another side, a hulking behemoth half-concealed by shadows thrashed within its cage, a single sign attached to the bottom: _Lorwardian Xenotype XC-15. Servitor Beast Experiment Ongoing._

A red haired man nimbly jumped off the catwalk from several stories above him, landing right next to Winters with feral, catlike grace. “I would have thought you were going to stay at the party, my dear Winters. You _so_ love your bacchanalia, after all,” he purred mockingly, falling into step.

            “Sycophants and tools, all of them,” the cultured older man snarled as he marched on. “I wouldn’t break bread with their weak kind, much less spend an entire evening with them. And these New Year’s celebrations are meaningless to us. Are there any developments here at Legend’s End?”

            “I don’t know,” the assassin said absently, filing his nails with the edge of his rapiers. “And, really, I don’t care. I’m not here to mind your little toys for you, Marcus.”

            “There are times, Corrigan Lukas, when I wonder why I took up with you.”

            “Oh, _please_ , Marcus. Where else would you find a completely disassociated sociopath whose only desire is to kill?”

            “Indeed,” the older man grunted noncommittally. “Speaking of which – how’s your team coming along?”

            Lukas gave an exaggerated sigh. “Adequate, I suppose. Not nearly as bloodthirsty as me, so I’ll have to work on that.”

            “They needn’t be as insane as you are, Lukas; they just have to be good at killing.”

            “Better than the usual lot ‘Global Justice’ was saddled with,” the assassin scoffed. “It’s amazing what one can find, sifting through applicants rejected by the old guard due to ‘psychological issues.’ Hah!” He pirouetted with his rapier. “Insanity’s done _wonders_ for me, personally.”

            “I do wonder if it would have been better to replace you with one of my pet projects. They’d be more stable, certainly.”

            “None of them could provide you with the scintillating conversation I do, Marcus. Although, I must admit, of all your silly little high school projects,” the red haired murderer commented, as they came across a force field protected vat, “this one does intrigue me.”

            The pair stopped, looking up at the giant glass cylinder, Marcus deactivating the barrier with a word as Lukas went up to it, a hand caressing the cold sides. The assassin looked up into the contents with something akin to reverence. “Really, my dear leader,” he asked without turning, “is this… altogether wise?”

            “The psychopath questions me about wisdom?”

            “This psychopath knows a bad feeling crawling down his spine.” He pressed his cheek to glass, eyes closed, murmuring to the inanimate contents like a lover. “There’s something beautifully… _depraved_ about this. Like… _violating_ … something beautiful and sacred.” He purred the words.

            Winters looked into the vat impassively, barely seeing anything within the cobalt blue fluid inside. “Trojan Sword Six is a contingency, Lukas. Every single avenue must be examined, every… _possibility_ … thought of.”

            “Maybe.” Lukas turned around suddenly, a cheshire grin on his face. “But then again, you’re usually right, aren’t you?”

            Marcus merely smiled, watching as the cloudly swirls within the vat cleared up for a moment, revealing the faintest hint of long, fiery red hair.

            “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

End Interlude.

Requiem On Paper Wings continues in _Red Angel's Reckoning_  


 


End file.
